Rees-Mogg secretly celebrates 250th birthday

JACOB Rees-Mogg has celebrated his 250th birthday in the remote country house where he was born in 1768.

Making his excuses from a constituency function, Mr Rees-Mogg stole away through a back door, donned his top hat and cape and made for a waiting carriage to whisk him to an ancient pile deep in the Cotswolds.

The MP was accompanied by his faithful manservant, Hodges, sworn to secrecy on pain of having his tongue removed with a pair of heated tongs.

Mr Rees-Mogg enjoyed a candlelit supper of mead and venison, as is his custom on every half-century; he partook of the same meal in 1968, 1918 and 1868.

He said: “Contrary to being the son of my father William Rees-Mogg, former editor of The Times, I am actually his Great-Great-Great Grandfather.

“I’ve always had somewhat of a boyish air; my nannies often remarked on it. I didn’t shave till I was 86 years old, having reached puberty only two years earlier.”

Mr Rees-Mogg intends to celebrate his 300th birthday in 50 years time with a celebration to mark Britain’s five decades of recession.

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Six alternative careers for Theresa May

DESPITE the prime minister’s limpet-like determination to hang on, it could be time for her to think about a career change. Here are some suggestions.

Automated rail announcer
May’s robotic speaking style is perfect for tedious announcements like “The 14.32 to Wigan is now ready to depart”. She’s also so boring she’d probably get really into it.

Cold caller
Two key aspects of cold-calling sales jobs are repeating the same script endlessly and people wishing you’d fuck off.

BBC sci-fi villain
May already has the clothes for a remake of Blake’s 7 or a role in Doctor Who. All she needs now is a bollocks sci-fi name like ‘Mayvolarax’ and a clearly flawed plan, eg. creating an army of power-crazed androids who NEVER turn against their boss.

Norma Desmond-style recluse
Like the faded film star, May could retreat to a mansion and fantasise about returning to politics. Sadly she doesn’t have a gift for iconic dialogue like “I am big. It’s the pictures that got small” and would just keep repeating “lawsmoneyborders” over and over again.

Dickens character
It’s worryingly easy to imagine May as the cruel governess of a home for orphans. Possibly called ‘Miss Jabgrind’, she would have entitled little shits like Oliver Twist deported.

Brexit minister
Not the top job, admittedly, but with so much Brexit experience under her belt there’s surely no way she could fuck it up.